


When it Rains, it Pours Confetti

by Rosage



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, Other, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosage/pseuds/Rosage
Summary: At Asra’s wedding reception, having new family overwhelms him.
Relationships: Asra & Nadia (The Arcana), Asra & Portia Devorak, Asra/Julian Devorak
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	When it Rains, it Pours Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> Briefly established Portia/Nadia and MC/Muriel.

Orbs of every color reflect off the crystals rotating overhead, lighting the otherwise dim ballroom. Below, Asra spins in Nadia’s arms, the hem of his robes swishing against her dress. Their formal dance doesn’t suit the music, but they agreed to it before the wedding, and he’s not one to care how anyone else moves.

Not that it stops him from watching Ilya dance with Portia and Mazelinka. They’re a little too wild for the music, though surprisingly, Ilya has kept his feet on the ground since the chair dance. Nadia’s cheek brushes Asra’s temple as she looks in the same direction, no doubt smiling at her wife. 

“We married into quite the rowdy family, didn’t we?” Nadia asks. Red and purple lights blink across her face while Asra parses the statement.

“Would either of us have settled for anything less?” 

“Given my own siblings, I suppose I could have chosen not to add to the chaos.”

“But what would be the fun in that?”

“Well said. Besides, I am no longer the youngest.” She peers down her nose at him, and he fakes a groan.

“Your brilliant strategy, revealed.”

Though he jokes, his heart pivots along with his feet. Nadi is one thing. She’s already gossiped with him late at night, letting him borrow her jewelry and run amuck in her palace. But if any of her siblings besides Nazali were available, the wedding preparations may have been more frantic.

He glances at Ilya again. Even the first time they were… whatever they were, Mazelinka let Asra stay in the hole beneath her kitchen, and cooked him eggs the next morning. She and Ilya shared stories of the sister who got stuck on rooftops and broke pottery with her slingshot. In moments, the sunrise wrapped him in warmth, like the shawl Mazelinka draped around him, but it was…

It was a reprieve. A distraction. 

The metal of his ring rubs against Nadia’s warm shoulder. As the song winds down, she guides him over to the others. Rather than steal her wife away, she hands Asra over to Portia, who hooks an arm in his. 

“Hey, you. Having fun?” she asks as she swings him around.

“Yeah. Thanks for helping plan everything.”

“Compared to the masquerade, this was easy peasy. Your parents did the hard part. The lights and those crystal things are so cool.”

He laughs at the awe in her voice. She trailed his parents the whole time they set that up, and even listened to his dad’s lecture about the enchantment. Her dad. The thought’s not too strange, given how often his mom makes Portia tea, disregarding that someone gets paid to serve Nadia’s consort. Aisha and Salim probably like having a fledgling magician around. Someone who didn’t learn from an arcane trickster. 

He shakes out his body with some looser moves. Though streams of orange, Portia studies him.

“Getting married is a lot, huh? Ilya would take you outside for some fresh air, you know,” she says. 

The husband in question tries to get Selasi to join him on a table, from which Selasi rescues a plate of food. The lemon curd from one of his pastries lingers on Asra’s tongue.

“Ilya? Not be the center of attention?” Normally, that would take the pressure off Asra, but not now. Not with everyone there for _them_. He couldn’t even join Carrow and Muriel when they dipped out into the gardens—after dancing with him, of course.

“I can drag him over and tell him to look after his spouse,” Portia says.

Is his wandering mind that obvious? “Oh, I’m fine.” 

“If you’re sure. I love a good party, and even I got dizzy at my reception. Of course, that was a royal wedding…”

She reminisces until Aisha and Salim dance over and cut in. Salim, decorated with all three snakes, loops an arm through Portia’s while Aisha takes Asra’s hand. The moment he slows down, he buckles. His mom’s keen eyes glow purple in the light as she wraps strong arms around him. He rests his head against her shoulder. She rocks with him, just enough to hopefully resemble a slow dance. 

“You’re doing so well, you’re so beautiful, so loved, my baby.” Her murmurs swathe him along with the music and chatter. The lights flash different colors behind his eyelids. He sways just a little too far, and she catches him.

“Asra?”

It’s Ilya’s voice in his ear. Ilya, who had pulled Nadia onto the table, last Asra saw. Aisha holds Asra close for another moment before gently passing him over to his husband. _I’m fine_ , he tries to say, but the words don’t come. Before they can, Ilya scoops him up. He manages to hang onto Ilya’s neck, like he’s only being whisked away. Ilya completes the effect with suggestive comments that ward off concerned guests. 

He carries Asra outside and places him on a bench. Dusk is just descending, giving Asra’s eyes a rest. He breathes in the fresh scent of the hedges. After Ilya returns with a pitcher of water, Asra sits up and drinks.

Ilya crouches beside him. “How are you feeling? Do you need food? Did somebody—”

“I’m fine,” Asra repeats. “I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“I’m sorry. I know we tried to keep things small.”

They mostly managed to, given the hundreds of people Ilya could have invited, or who could have crashed it. It’s not too much larger than the gathering his parents will host later. “We did pretty well. If anything, it’s weird how little is going wrong.” 

“I’m glad that’s not just me. I keep waiting for something to catch fire,” Ilya says.

“To be fair, it would have rained if not for Mom, and Volta almost ran off with the cake. Maybe that was it?” 

“We can only hope. Though there’s still time for more trouble.” Ilya grins, and Asra nudges him with a knee.

“Don’t tempt fate.”

Falling quiet, Asra scans the area where they had the actual ceremony, with Faust delivering flowers and Malak bearing the rings. It’s still covered with confetti. From a distance, he glimpses the willow tree where he once carved Carrow’s name. Now, Carrow and Muriel are strolling the gardens. Maybe they’re lost in the maze, or they’ve slipped into the forest, where they can make flower chains. 

“Was, uh, was it just the party, then?” Ilya asks.

“Not exactly.” Asra puts down the pitcher and wipes his chin. “It took so long to get used to having any family. But even before, it was just me and my parents. They probably meant to take me to meet my relatives in Zadith, but…”  
  
“I know how you feel. For the longest time, I didn’t really have anyone.” 

Leaning down, Asra cups Ilya’s cheek. Through the eye not covered by his golden eyepatch, Ilya looks up at him with unveiled awe. He adjusts the flower in Asra’s hair and curls fingers beneath his chin. His kiss has no urgent hunger, no attempt to steal just one more touch or breath. 

“My spouse,” Ilya whispers, a little hoarse. Before Asra can kiss him again, Ilya backs up a little. “Er, darling, can I ask…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh, understand it’s all a bit much, but if you’re having any other regrets…”

Smiling, Asra strokes Ilya’s ring. “Oh, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Ilya presses the back of his hand to his forehead and swoons against the hedge. “Woe is me! A magician has captured my heart, and now I must fulfill their every whim!”

Too tired to retort, Asra spills into a fit of giggles. He pulls Ilya up onto the bench and relaxes in his arms. How has this become the thing he’s sure of? Not too long ago, their engagement dug up his old worries. They’d never work out—Ilya would go back to sabotaging everything, or Asra would run away before the wedding could trap him. But they took it day-by-day, moment-by-moment. Asra’s parents leading him into the ceremony, Ilya crying while improvising vows to cherish Asra always, a hundred other things Asra never expected to have. That’s enough to process. The rest can wait until after the honeymoon. 

“So, the Painted Daisy Festival is coming up,” Asra says.

“Oh, good! We can stay in Nopal until it’s over.”

That’s about as far as they’ve planned, despite floating a hundred ideas. They’ll find adventure as they go. They’ve already wrapped up their work, as everyone knows better than to expect them home anytime soon.

“And after that? Mind if I pick the next stop?” Asra asks.

“You know I’ll follow you anywhere.”

How many times has Ilya said that as a _would_? Asra hums against his chest, feeling the heartbeat that’s raced alongside his all day.

“We’ll go together.”


End file.
